


Renegades

by lampfaced



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anyways, Asexual Din Djarin, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality Spectrum, Din is trying to be a good dad, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Gen, Grogu's just happy to have people, I'm too shy to put an actual OCxCanon story into this fandom, Listen... I'm writing this for me and I'm allowed to be as indulgent as I want, Multi, Mutual Pining, No Sex, No Smut, Nobody in this family knows what they're doing, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader doesn't understand kids but tries, Reader is technically an OC but I'm keeping things vague enough to keep it a reader-insert, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Tags May Change, and that includes my being ace and headcanoning that Din is ace as well, no beta I'm too shy for that shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28675989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lampfaced/pseuds/lampfaced
Summary: You're used to your job as an infochant sponsored by the Bounty Hunters' Guild bringing you the occasional violent incident. But when a certain Mandalorian you've helped out before comes to you for help and accidentally brings his very dangerous problems along with him, it's all you can do to let yourself get dragged into it.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Character(s), Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, Mando/reader, Mando/you, The Mandalorian/Reader, The Mandalorian/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If other people are allowed to write reader-inserts where the reader character has specific qualities about them then I’m allowed to as well. :v
> 
> First things first: I AM VERY UNCOMFORTABLE WITH SMUT. I've gone and indicated as much as I can in the tags. I am the particular variety of asexual that wants nothing to do with it. I also headcanon Mando being somewhere on that spectrum himself. So because of that, there will be no smut or implications of smut whatsoever anywhere in this series. There’s plenty of that to be found in other content. I do, however, enjoy fluff and characters being Soft, so that will be happening eventually. 
> 
> Reader is very mildly Force-sensitive, but doesn’t know it. The sensitivity manifests in them being able to sense the presence of people, impending danger, and being a little luckier than usual when it comes to anticipating oncoming attacks. They can also vaguely pick up on others that are Force-sensitive, but it comes off as a weird sense of familiarity. Grogu can tell what's going on, but there's no way for that to be communicated.
> 
> Reader is an infochant (information merchant) on a planet adjacent to Nevarro, specializing in maps of planets, information regarding the social groups on given planets and their settlements, etc. They sell info to just about anyone that wants it, but they’re a useful asset to the Guild, and are sponsored by them.
> 
> There's no rhyme or reason to when updates will happen, work kicks my ass on a daily basis and doesn't leave a lot of energy for much, let alone writing.
> 
> Not much happens in this chapter, just setting things up for why Reader is tagging along with Mando in the first place!

It wasn’t every day that you’d get a Guild member coming through your doors. Granted, you’d get all sorts of customers as an informant, but Guild members tended to be the proud sort that would rather start their hunts from scratch and not bother trying to get help from anyone. Even if that help was in the form of extensive galactic maps and planetary inhabitants that held more detail than most databases - courtesy some archives from a long-established library somewhere on Coruscant - and would come in handy once they determined what direction they were going. 

It was even less often that a Guild member would try to sneak in and take you by surprise, trying to keep the knowledge that they’d even been there hidden from anyone that may be watching. Or to try and intimidate information out of you for the fee of letting you live, if they were new to the bounty-hunting field and were preoccupied with maintaining the reputation of a mercenary. Those types annoyed you to no end. 

Today seemed to be one of those days. 

Without fail, you always got a strange niggling in the back of your mind when someone was around that shouldn’t be. You never could explain why it was that you could do that, but it came in handy and in turn took the visitors by surprise that you knew they were there. You liked to think that’s part of why you were able to maintain your reputation within the Guild as a preferred informant.

The strange sensation was there. But it was… different somehow. You stood from your desk and brought a hand to hover near your temple, focusing on it. No, this was stronger. Not just in the way that you felt when there was more than one person, either. It was stronger, and despite being so foreign, it had an almost familiar sense to it. You furrowed your brow, eyes darting aimlessly as you tried to process it.

You stepped out from behind your desk, the work you’d been doing double-checking and updating your own archives forgotten as you cautiously reached for a hold-out blaster you kept within hand’s reach. You could never be too careful with potential clientele.

There really weren’t many places in your “office building” to go from where you were. A hallway with a small set of stairs that led to your living space, and the front door. There was a back door to the living area and a few windows that would every so often have to have their grating replaced on, and if someone was feeling especially sneaky there was an air vent that dropped into the center of the hallway. 

You turned your eyes towards the ceiling, where just above was the modest kitchen area. Whoever was setting off your stranger senses, was there, even though they weren’t making noise. You sighed quietly to yourself and padded your way towards the stairs and the doorframe that led to the area, blaster ready in your hand.

Rounding the corner slowly, face blank, you glanced up and watched for any shadows or other movement on the walls ahead of you. Still no sound - though you swear there was an almost sub-audial humming that wasn’t there before, the kind you’d expect from idle machinery. You hadn’t left anything on, you knew that much. 

You rolled your eyes at the thought of some meathead bringing some convoluted contraption to interrogate you with. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

Might as well get this over with.

“Hey, I _know_ someone’s up there. Your sneaking isn’t going to work on me. State your business.”

You stepped up the stairs, blaster slightly raised, not trying to be silent anymore.

You barely made it to the top step when a pair of hands grabbed you, one slamming over your mouth and the other wrenching your arm just enough to make you drop your weapon, and you were bodily lifted and pinned against the wall just to the side of where you’d been entering the room. You pushed back instinctively, trying to wrench your arm free and thinking about how effective it would be to try and bite the glove-clad hand over your mouth—

“ _Y/N._ ”

The modulated hiss of your name burst through the fight-or-flight haze that had taken over, and with a jolt you registered the Beskar helmet in front of you. All your movements stopped as you stared, dumbfounded. There was no forgetting that “face”, no matter how long it had been since you last saw it.

To be truthful, even though you’d only met him a few times before, this Mandalorian was by far the most bearable of the Guild that came to you for information. To-the-point with what he needed, no awkward attempts at small-talk, and despite how blunt he was, surprisingly polite. It made those few encounters memorable and had you wishing for more in the future over other clients. Of course fate would have it be like this.

In all honesty, the physical closeness of the whole thing was throwing you for a loop and your mind was choosing now of all times to remind you of how touch-deprived you were, and bringing back to the surface those old vaguely fond feelings for this man that occasionally crossed your path. But you were still lucid enough not to let that be at the forefront of your mind.

You quirked your eyebrow at him as he carefully released your arm, motioning for you to stay quiet. You were just barely able to nod your head enough to indicate you understood. He slowly removed his hand from your face, moving as if he went too fast you’d spook like a trapped animal and lash out. 

Something was very off if Mando of all people was sneaking around your place and trying to keep you quiet. He was the _last_ person to care about what the rest of the Guild thought about what they saw him doing, he just cared about getting jobs done and doing so as efficiently as possible. You’d heard enough about his reputation to know that much.

This predicament all but confirmed the talk you’d heard around town that Mando had gone and broken some big rules, something about going back on a bounty after turning it in, and now had a price of his own on his head. 

You swept your hands out to the sides in your most “what the hell” motion you could muster. You didn’t miss the very slight sag in Mando’s posture, like he had quietly sighed. 

And that’s when you noticed it. 

You stared at the egg-shaped pod floating in the middle of the room. The source of the humming you’d heard earlier, no doubt. What was he carting around that was so valuable he had to take it with him instead of leaving it on his ship? 

The quiet noise that came from it made you start. It almost sounded like… something alive was inside. 

You gave Mando a sidelong stare. The Beskar warrior tilted his head in your direction, just enough to indicate he was looking back at you.

“Mando… what did you _do._ ”

You watched with baited breath as he approached the pod, standing close by its side as he keyed in something on his wrist panel to open it. You knew he was honorable, but some morbid part of your mind expected something viscerally upsetting to greet you.

What was actually inside, took you more by surprise than anything you could have imagined.

Sitting up amongst a pile of blankets and peering at you with curious dark eyes and perked oversized ears, was a baby unlike any you’d ever seen. You were pretty well-versed on the galaxy’s species, but this one escaped you entirely. And somehow, you still felt some kind of familiarity towards it. This was what was causing that other strange sensation earlier.

You blinked owlishly at it. It blinked back.

“...he’s just a kid.”

It was a low murmur, one you barely caught, but it struck you with the force of a thunderclap. The last two minutes alone had completely upturned any previous conceptions you may have had about the bounty hunter and what kind of person he was.

You did not understand why he was trusting you with this. At all. Yet here you were, and there he was. 

You didn’t realize you’d been slowly moving towards the pod until you were arm’s length from the child and it chirped at you, reaching up with a curious hand in your direction, his eyes bright and watching you expectantly. Your hand drifted upwards and you cautiously let the little one grasp your finger, transfixed.

A familiar voice brought you back to reality.

“I need options for lying low, somewhere off the grid. You’re currently my best option for getting them.”

You turned your head to look at the Mandalorian. It was a simple enough request, but the circumstances being what they were, he was clearly pressed for time and needed to be as discreet as possible with his actions. 

Glancing back at the child and carefully removing your hand from its grasp, you didn’t miss the way he seemed somewhat disappointed to no longer be the center of your attention. Sparing a glance at Mando, you motioned for him to follow you back to the office room, stopping momentarily to retrieve your blaster from the ground. He’d been there enough to know that there were no windows to be spied upon through in the lower area. With a quick tap to his wrist panel, he trudged carefully after you, the child’s pod drifting along close behind. 

“How extensive are you hoping for?”

“As much as you can manage, as quickly as you can manage.”

You casually toggled on the earpiece you were never without - com link, translation device, and a handy little neural connection that let you activate and sift through your databanks hands-free. It was expensive, but very worth the investment. As soon as you entered the room, numerous holoscreens came to life around you and began pulling up planets based on various criteria - remoteness, levels of inhabitants, general hostility levels, neutrality with the New Republic, to name a few. Your eyes flitted between screens, highlighting the more promising results and using a slight swiping motion of your hand to dismiss the less promising ones. 

“I’ve got a handful you can look at, if they’re good I can download more of the information about the actual planetary ongoings for you onto a data stick.”

You glance towards the bounty hunter when you see him nod his head, but notice he’s not paying as much attention to the actual selections as you anticipated. He seemed... on edge. More so than he did when you found yourself trying to fight him after he snuck into your home. The child, meanwhile, paid no attention at all to the armored man and was mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of screens and their data streams, ears swiveling and gaze darting about, the colorful reflections dancing across the black of his eyes.

You weren’t one to fawn over kids, but you had to admit, this one could be pretty cute. 

On your way to pull a blank data stick from the storage space in your desk, you froze. All the hairs on your body stood on end and something at the base of the skull felt like it was writhing, yelling at you to get out, get far away, now. 

“What’s wrong.” 

You rounded on the Mandalorian faster than you’d done anything in your life, data stick falling from your grip and clattering to the ground so you could instead pull out your blaster for the second time that day. This actually seemed to startle him as he backed up a step. The screens around you shut down, plunging the room into darkness now that the only light source were the small lights on some of the machinery and the dim lamp on the desk. The child whimpered, shrinking down into the safety of his pod.

“We need to leave. Right now. No time. Someone’s coming and it’s not gonna be good.”

That was all he needed to hear. With a quick look at the child, he closed the pod and unholstered his own blaster, stance wary but leaving nothing to the imagination about how often he must’ve found himself in similar situations before this and come out the victor. If you weren’t so on edge and consumed with the need to get out, you might have been able to admire the sight before you of the broad-shouldered, Beskar-clad warrior. 

Another time. 

Noises of someone trying to force entry echoed from the upstairs area before you even made it a step past the doorway to the office. The front door was closer, and while it seemed counterintuitive to go there versus the back door, something told you you’d have more luck that way. 

You snatched your outerwear and pouched belts from their hanging hook in the hall, knowing you’d have to be lying low yourself for at least a few days before you could consider coming back home. You were an infochant, you knew of all the possible places in the immediate area that would be good for that. 

There was hardly any time to react when the front door was forced open, and an unruly-looking individual aimed a blaster down the hall and began firing. How you managed to twist to the side and avoid getting hit, you’ll never know. You’ll also never know how you managed to shoot off your stun blaster at the same time Mando fired his, so the man was not just stunned into unconsciousness but hit squarely in the stomach by the blaster fire. He fell to the ground with no sound other than the thunk of his weight against the floor. You blinked in slight shock at it, turning briefly to look at the equally-taken-by-surprise bounty hunter.

Hey, you’ll take it. 

He nodded briskly and brushed past you to go out the door first, and he was barely through the frame before he was effortlessly dodging and striking out at two more assailants. You almost felt sorry for them as he knocked them to the ground, the Beskar armor rendering their attempts to strike back useless, and used some well-placed blaster shots to ensure they wouldn’t get back up. 

Again, there was no time for you to properly be in awe. The intruders in the upper area were making their way towards where you were, and you had to keep moving. As soon as he signaled it was safe you dashed outside, slinging your belt over your shoulder and making sure the pod with the child inside was unmarked. You didn’t doubt Mando’s ability, but you felt like now that you were in this mess, if anything did happen, it would be on you. 

And you just saw what he was capable of doing to anyone on his bad side.

None of you stopped until you were several buildings away, but within view of your place. You watched from your hiding place as at least three people moved from the two different entrances, some kicking at the corpses of their accomplices and motioning to the ones going back inside, their words too distant to be made out. You could see some items haphazardly being tossed through the door, mostly your equipment. Your personal databanks were heavily encrypted and couldn’t be accessed without your genetic signature, so they’d find they were useless sooner or later. At least you had backups in storage, so it wasn’t a total loss. 

They had possibly realized this, as they left the equipment, and after what looked like a brief regrouping, the vandals parted to scour the streets for any sign of where you had went,

“I think I may have to follow you on your way out of the city. I can hole up somewhere until things calm down-“

The explosion brought your thoughts to a grinding halt.

Fire, horrifically beautiful, burst through what was once your front door and upper windows as if they were made of foam and not the reinforced durasteel that all buildings in the area were required to have. Everything was simultaneously in slow motion but happening far too fast for you to truly register anything. It didn’t even feel like you were in your body anymore, it felt like you were looking through a pair of scopes from another planet. You could only stare dumbly at the smoke laced with embers as it billowed into the sky above. 

“Hey, we need to move.”

A brief clap on your shoulder shocked you free of the spell. You glanced at the gloved hand, and up at its owner. There was no time to try and decipher any further meaning in Mando’s stance, if there was any sympathy expressed towards you in the hand that rested shortly on your shoulder. He motioned quickly with his head to follow him, and briskly moved to retreat from the area. With a small sigh, you hurried after him.

The three of you only stopped once you’d gone past the outskirts of the city, taking cover in an outcropping of rocks.

You didn’t need to tap into any chatter frequencies to know your name was now amongst those that you’d help bounty hunters track down.

Well… used to. That avenue was as burnt up as your home was now.

You scrubbed a hand over your face, eyes closed, now that you had a second to stop. 

“If you need a ride, I can help.”

Your eyes fluttered open and you looked over your fingers at the man that just turned your life upside down. You could tell he was trying to be nonchalant about it, stance casual and visor pointed steadily in your direction, but you could feel a sense of guilt through the way he couldn’t stop shifting on his feet every so often and the way he couldn’t figure out where to settle his fingers on his belt. Must’ve been unusual for him to find himself in this kind of predicament.

“...sure. I don’t really have any other options right now.”

* * *

It was quiet on the Razor Crest. The Mandalorian sat at the helm, charting a route through hyperspace. The Child had been let out of his pod and was freely wandering the cramped cockpit, but you couldn’t be bothered to even idly watch what he may have been doing. All you could do was stare blankly at the space ahead of you.

It was gone. All of it.

Your archives you had meticulously compiled over the years. Your collection of plants from various systems that made living on the dusty rock you called home more bearable. Personal things you had held onto since your childhood, things that had been passed on to you from generations past. All that was left was what you’d managed to grab on your way out the door, thinking you’d have a chance to come back and resume life there in maybe a day or two. 

And you were a fugitive now, too, for aiding Mando and fleeing rather than let yourself be captured and punished. You weren’t even able to get any of the information Mando had come to you for. You reached up and ran your fingers over your earpiece, the only thing left of your once-extensive setup. At least it was still useful.

Your brooding was interrupted by a small tug on your pant leg. Looking down, you met a pair of big, dark eyes peering up over your knees.

“Uh...hi?”

The Child cooed, tiny clawed hands gripping into the fabric, tilting his head like he expected something from you. 

Kids were weird.

You hesitantly reached out, awkwardly patting his head and thinking to yourself how the combination of the grooves in his head and his thin, downy hair felt strange. His eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile. You glanced up at where Mando was sitting, to see that he had turned to watch you and the kid. You couldn’t see his eyes but his gaze still burned into you nonetheless. 

You quickly turned back to the Child, letting him grab your hand and begin inspecting it thoroughly like it was an interesting toy. 

This seemed like as good an opportunity as any to ask a question that had been bothering you.

“So, uh, Mando… why didn’t you try to hide the kid back at my place? You had no way to know I wouldn’t tell someone once you left.”

There really wasn’t any reason for him to trust you like that that you could come up with. The odd consult for planetary guides wasn’t nearly enough interaction for either of you to really say that you knew the other, beyond impressions. You sold information, you had no loyalty to one client over another, and knowing Mando had the kid with him at that very moment could have ended with you possibly… doing something rash, if you really wanted to. You wouldn’t. But he had no way of knowing that. Right?

There was a quiet modulated sigh from the bounty hunter. You changed looking in his direction again, and let out a small breath you’d been holding when you saw he wasn’t watching you anymore. Rather, he was watching the kid playing with your hand.

“...you’re trustworthy.”

And before you could try and get him to elaborate on what he meant, he turned back to the controls. 

That wasn’t something you were expecting to hear. 

You looked back at the Child, who had moved past your hand and was now pulling at the shiny silver latch tucked into your wrist piece that had your keycard attached to it. All that was left of your old residence. You pulled it out and let him take it, watching him pick at the etched grooves and writing with his claws.

You felt something akin to pain and grim amusement that something that used to be so important in your life, was now relegated to a baby toy. He could keep it, you didn’t need it anymore where you were headed. 

...wait, where were you going?

“Mando, what system are we headed towards?”

“Don’t know yet. I’m getting as far as we can go first.”

Oh, good. You closed your eyes to suppress an eyeroll.

“Well, when we have some idea, let me know so I can figure out just what degree of screwed I am for starting over at everything.”

Silence from the pilot. It wasn’t his fault that he was followed, not his fault that the assailants had decided to ransack and then destroy your abode and livelihood. But you could still tell he carried the guilt as if it were. You hadn’t meant to sound like you blamed him, but your irritated tone of voice at the situation at hand could certainly be interpreted that way. 

“Sorry, Mando, I just… don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

You sighed softly, absent-mindedly messing with your hands. The Child watched you, his ears drooping at your defeated tone. 

“I could use an extra set of eyes around, with watching out for the kid.”

He was facing you again, this time turned in the pilot’s chair with an arm partly draped over the armrest. He was trying to look nonchalant again. The way he peered over his shoulder made you want to hide away, and you prayed he didn’t notice the flustered flush trying to creep its way onto your face. 

The Child made a noise of agreement to Mando’s suggestion, looking enthusiastically from the armored man back to you, eyes bright and ears angled high in anticipation of you answering. Why this kid seemed to be so interested in you, you had no idea. You’d only just met him, why was he so excited? The only thing you could think of was that strange, familiar vibe he gave you, maybe it was a two-way thing?

Mando suggesting you stay around to help with the kid at all took you by surprise as well. You slowly turned your head to stare at him head-on. He didn’t exactly state he wanted a babysitter, but with your understanding of his profession you would probably be saddled with a lot of doing just that. You knew if anyone decided to try and come after you for information, if you were traveling with the Mandalorian you’d be safer than anywhere you might settle down. But at the same time, a nomadic lifestyle such as his relying on hunting down troublesome quarry was equally dangerous. But it wouldn’t just be you by your lonesome, and, hell, it could make for some interesting experiences.

“Are you being serious?”

All he had to do was incline his head. You looked back down at the kid, who seemed to be holding his breath waiting for an answer. 

“...I don’t know the first thing about kids. But I’ll help out where I can, with him or anywhere else.”

The Child squealed, clutching the keycard he was still holding close. That earned a small chuckle from you. 

You looked back up at the Mandalorian watching you both, not needing to see his face under his helmet to know he was also being affected by the small green child’s charm. He finally turned away, back to his controls, looking through the ship’s navigation to plot the next leg of whatever journey you were on. 

This was going to be one hell of a ride.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader attempts to get settled into their new life as best as they can, and is mildly appalled at how bare-bones Mando is living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More setting the stage before progressing on to following the plot of the show. Sorgan is next chapter, I promise. :v But for now it's the two idiots and the tiny green gremlin getting accustomed to one another. ngl, as I got to the last little bit I just wanted to get it DONE, so apologies about any awkward writing there.
> 
> I spent so much time looking up food and kitchen-equivalents on Wookieepedia for this chapter.
> 
> \---

It wasn’t clear just how little you had to work with until you started to go about trying to figure out your new place as crewmate on the Razor Crest.

You’d think a full-time bounty hunter, even one that worked solo, would have a _little_ more in storage other than the vast amount of weapons, like an extra bed roll or blankets or something. But no, not this one. He seemed more concerned with having extra firepower than additional living necessities. 

You sighed, putting the lid back on the storage crate you'd opened up. You had hoped to find something other than weaponry inside, and while it wasn't exactly weapons, it sure looked like it contained canisters like the ones you saw attached to the mobile carbon-freezing unit he had on board. There were no other places to look.

Standing up straight, you turned to face the length of the hold. If you'd really wanted to, you could have tried to get Mando to let you have the space he normally reserved for housing captive bounty as a space for you to claim. But between you not having the courage, and certainly not wanting to deal with the possibility of a carbonite-frozen bounty being stored there to stare endlessly at you, it was off the table. The hold it was. It was narrow and not exactly intended as a living space, but you could make it work. There was already a dip in the wall where you stood, and with some rearranging of the crates, you could create more of a "wall" to provide some semblance of privacy - and to provide a barrier so you didn't have to deal with seeing the entire refresher unit every time you turned your head. 

Unfortunately, that's where your resources ended. The closest thing Mando had to extra bedding was the rough, heavy-duty netting he kept to tie cargo down with. Hardly suitable for what you were needing. You also had no additional change of clothes. You were already starting to feel self-conscious about it, hoping you didn't start to smell funky too quickly. A shower would only go so far when your clothes hadn't been washed.

A trip to some kind of market was needed. It was a good thing Mando was already intending to stop somewhere to refuel.

You flipped open one of the pouches on your belt, pulling out its contents. Several loose credits, and a couple credit chips. Thank Maker you still had those. With your usual living expenses having significantly downsized now that you were out of a home and all the associated bills that came with it, your budget gave you much more to work with. You had more than enough to get you what you might need. You tucked your credits back into your belt.

There was one more thing you needed to check, but didn't know where it was. The pantry. There was no doubt that Mando's current stock was meant for a single adult individual, and not two adults and a small alien child, so it would need to be supplemented anyways. But what did he already have? Had he recently stocked up, or was he nearing the last of his rations? 

You made your way over to the ladder that led up to the helm, where Mando was piloting to wherever he was going to stop for fuel. The kid must've heard you coming, because his head suddenly popped over the edge of the hatch to watch you, twittering curiously. You half-heartedly waved at him, hoping he didn't try to come down by himself.

"Hey, Mando!"

The heavy sound of boots hitting the floor reverberated through the ceiling and came closer to the hatch, until the reflective helmet of the bounty hunter stared down at you.

"Where's your pantry hold at?"

He stood still for just a moment, fingers twitching at his side - a nervous tic? - and then reaching for the kid, began to climb down the ladder. You stepped back and allowed him ample space to get down, and for him to set the kid down. The little green child looked around and waited to see what the two of you were up to. Mando trudged towards a panel near the armory just across from the ladder, and pushed a switch.

"Here."

A panel on the wall swished aside and a conservator was revealed, along with a small set of shelves containing tins, ration packs, and an extremely modest set of dish ware that itself looked like it had come from a military ration pack. 

It was difficult to stop your eyebrows from raising to the top of your forehead. There was so little here. And what was here, was so incredibly basic that you couldn't imagine trying to live off of it for every single meal. A few packs of basic rations, a dwindling container of mealgrain. You cautiously pulled open the conservator, and it was what you expected. More basic ration packs, a single almost-empty package of some kind of sausage links, and a couple small jars of paste that could be added to water to make a basic soup. You closed the door, and leafed through the shelves' contents. There was an old heating plate in there and a small pot, and maybe enough utensils that you could count them all on one hand. Pulling out a packet of vacuum-sealed veg-meat, watching it glisten sickeningly in the light, you turned and gave the Mandalorian a pointed look as if you were waiting for an explanation. 

He was trying so hard not to come off as sheepish. But the hands-on-the-hips stance and his visor turned away from you said otherwise. He'd never had anyone come on board and inspect his pantry hold before, and while he didn't think at the time it would bother him, it was completely different now that you were down on one knee, thinly-veiled disgust on your face at the food options, looking up at him with an intense expression that could surely bore a hole through his armor. Not even the kid staring at the shelves like he had an enormous buffet in front of him softened any of the situation.

"I don't know _how_ you live like this." You lightly tossed the veg-meat back onto the shelf, standing up and righting your clothing. Mando flipped the switch to close the panel back up, the child drooping disappointedly now that everything was shut away. He crossed his arms defensively just as you rested a fist on your hip, looking down at the child and exhaling through your nose.

"Looks like I've got my work cut out for me, huh, kid."

He tilted his head questioningly at you. 

"Your 'work'?" You could hear the edge of offense in his tone.

You turned that piercing gaze back to him for a moment. 

"Besides being unable to find something to make myself a bed from, and needing some kind of change of clothes, your pantry is appalling and barely suitable for one adult. Let alone two plus a small child. You told me to help out, so I'm going to help out. When we stop for fuel, I'm going to go find a market." You tapped the pouch on your belt that contained your credits forcefully enough to make the loose pieces jingle, emphasizing that you had your own means of payment. 

Mando sighed. He was the one that suggested you stay, so it was nobody's fault but his own that things were unfolding like this. He might as well resign himself to it.

* * *

You knew Mando would go for a backwater world of some sort, so you didn't get your hopes up for your options at any markets. Mando let you empty out a rucksack he had sitting in the hold and use it to carry what you might find. He watched as you briskly walked away with determination, as he stood at the ship dock preparing to get the Razor Crest hooked up and refueled. The Child wanted very badly to go with you, but he forbade it and made him stay in his pod, only an arm's length away and hopefully high enough off the ground that he wouldn't try to climb out and toddle off. The small green child pouted in his blankets, staring out in the direction he had last seen you.

Mando was mystified as to why the kid took such a liking to you. Sure, he seemed friendly enough towards anyone he was allowed to interact with (not that there were many, considering his status as a bounty target), but the way he was drawn to you was different. It was almost like he recognized you from somewhere, though you both knew that wasn't possible. In all honesty, he may have been more reluctant to offer you a place on board if the kid hadn't acted the way he did, and just kept his end of helping you after losing your entire livelihood to dropping you off at a nearby planet of your choosing.

It wasn't that he didn't like you, quite the opposite. In the few times he'd gone to you for information for hunting down certain quarry, you were nothing but helpful. You asked just the right questions, made sure he knew about the societies on the planets he was going to be investigating, and also gave him what you had about lesser-known places that would make for good hiding spots. You didn't ever seem afraid of him, like others could be when a fully-armored Mandalorian carrying who knows what kind of firepower came looking for something. You treated him like any other person, maybe one you'd come to consider a friend, based on how with each further visit you'd remember what kind of things he liked to know, or just useful things in general, and tailor your information packets to it. He didn't really need to know things like which fueling stations were more suited for a ship like his and had better overall service, or which markets had more selection on weaponry for restocking purchases, or which food places were better and which to avoid at all costs. But they were there when he'd plug the data stick into his navigation computer. He got the impression you didn't do that for just any client, without an extra charge at least.

You said it yourself, you didn't know much about taking care of kids. Mando didn't, either. But two people trying to figure it out was better than one stumbling around blindly. It helped to have someone the kid liked, too. And even if it didn't directly involve watching out for him, he knew you'd make yourself useful with upkeep of the Razor Crest and any other odd jobs that might need tending to. 

The ship refueling took some time, but you still weren't back by the time it was finished. Mando went to the nearest food stand at the dock to buy something for the kid to eat in the meantime - a simple bowl of Mando and the kid went inside, keeping the hold ramp down and simply waiting inside, him using that time to maintain some of his more neglected firearms in the armory. He got lost in the muscle memory of taking apart each weapon, cleaning its individual pieces, and slotting everything back together to move on to the next one. 

The child chirping and standing up to clutch the edge of his pram signaled your return. Mando looked up from where he was cleaning one of his blasters, probably the fourth or fifth since he started, and there you were, walking up the ramp with the borrowed rucksack stuffed full and a few bundles under your arm. You gave him a small nod of acknowledgement and made a beeline for what he could only assume was the spot you'd chosen to be "yours", dumping the bundles unceremoniously onto the floor - except one, which you held almost gingerly - and swinging the rucksack down on top of them with a huff. You plunked down beside the pile, pulling your legs up at an angle and resting your head against the hull, exhaling dramatically. 

"Can we get out of here now?"

Mando had to smirk under his helmet at how comically tired you seemed. He couldn't blame you, he felt the same way after he had to deal with purchase-related errands. Standing, he put away the gun he'd been working on and shut away the armory, and issued the command for the ramp to close. 

The child clambered out of his pram onto a nearby storage crate, slipping to the ground and toddling over to you and your pile of spoils. You lifted your head to watch what he was doing. Mando watched him, too, to be sure he didn't get into anything he shouldn't. Of everything he could easily try to pick through, the kid of course went straight for the bundle you still held in your lap, reaching out but not quite touching the fabric. It was oddly puffy at the top, and tied around the bottom with some sort of twine. 

"Wait, wait. I'll show you, but no touching."

You undid the twine, and in doing so Mando got a glimpse of an earthenware material underneath the fabric. You shook the fabric loose, and swept it off by gripping the corner. There, balanced in the palm of your hand, was a tiny engraved pot. Inside the pot sat an equally-tiny, gnarled tree, capped with sprays of delicately bristling greenery. 

You tilted the plant towards the child, wide eyes taking in the sight. A tiny claw reached up, but halted and slowly lowered at the last moment. The corner of your mouth lifted at the kid remembering to behave. 

You glanced up at the Mandalorian, who you realized had been watching the interaction the whole time. You looked quickly down at the plant and picked slightly at the gravel in the pot, almost bashfully, like you were mildly ashamed of what you'd bought.

"It's not real, but I can pretend it is." Your voice was quiet. Mando remembered the sizable collection of plants that took up an entire corner of your living quarters he had broken into hardly a day or two ago. He felt a pang of something in his chest, slightly different than the sense of guilt he felt towards your situation. Sympathy, maybe? 

The synthetic plant was carefully placed on top of a storage container, far from the edges so it wouldn't fall. Your quiet demeanor suddenly shifted, and a new focus appeared as you stood, grabbing the rucksack by its handle, and made your way over to open up the pantry hold and begin unpacking its contents.

"I mostly picked up things that can be indefinitely stored, so no worries about anything spoiling." You began to pull out your purchases and put them away, careful to make sure the kid didn't scoop anything up. He was too busy being enamored with watching your hand disappear into the rucksack and pull out new item after item, like you were a magician. You said the name of each thing as you put it away on either the shelves or in the conservator: Anoat oats, shroomchips, kukuia nuts, dehydrated nuna egg, jhen honey, Kodari rice, jarred garlic, Corellian buckwheat noodles... and then some vacuum-packed fresh items; redsprouts, cuts of dewback, some kind of flatbread you weren't able to immediately identify but thought looked good, and-

"- I don't know if this is the same as what you had before, but I got more of these, too." You said as you set down a package of sausages.

Truth be told, Mando wasn't at all a picky eater, and had been content with the rations he lived off of. But watching the array of ingredients fill the shelves had him feeling like he hadn't eaten right in a very long time. And he was oddly looking forward to what you might have planned. 

You put away the last of the contents, mostly flavor additives, and a clear container of nuctrose crystals for the kid, given he behaved. Shutting the panel to the pantry hold, you stood back up and took the last contents from the rucksack - an odd bound stack of something, and a few styluses. They were placed next to the little tree on the crate. You shook out the rucksack so it was flat, and handed it back to the Mandalorian with a small thanks. He took it from you without a word and hung it on a hook nearby. You went back to your other bundles and began unpacking them, shaking out the bedroll and beginning to situate it.

"Once I'm done with all this, I'm going to make something to eat. Any requests?"

Mando could only shrug vaguely. You looked off to the side, eyes darting as you no doubt mentally ran through your various options now that nothing was off the table.

"Okay, then. I'll try not to make anything too awful." 

The kid was at your side the moment you'd mentioned food, and was looking up at you with wide, excited eyes. You looked down at him awkwardly, movements slowing. He stared back, audibly swallowing. 

"...he's not going to leave me alone, is he."

The Mandalorian shook his head, crossing his arms and leaning against the hull, amused expression hidden beneath his helmet. You suddenly felt extremely self-conscious about simply existing in that spot and Mando standing there like he was, watching your every move. He wasn't even doing anything malicious, he was just... looking. Maker, you couldn't do anything other than glance up at him for a half-second before you had to rip your gaze back to what you'd been doing before, hoping he didn't notice. This wasn’t even your standard inability to maintain a shared gaze, this was something else. It was the armor, you told yourself. You'd always thought the Mandalorian style of armor was beautifully crafted, but there was something so different about admiring it from an image and having a flesh-and-blood being inside a suit of it, standing like that just a few feet away, _staring you down_. 

Mando, however, didn't read any of your behavior as being flustered - just uncomfortable that you were being stared at. He could appreciate that, more than you might think. As much as he might find it interesting to watch whatever else you were going to do, he knew it was more important to allow you some space. He righted himself and strode over to the ladder. 

"Let the kid help you out."

He said it so matter-of-factly over his shoulder before he began to ascend that there was no doubt it wasn't a request. 

You blinked, and looked down at the child. Mando needed to concentrate on piloting. So it fell to you to be on kid-watching duty. The kid blinked back up at you, ears pricked and head tilted. You moved to unwrap the next bundle.

”Alright, kiddo. Let me finish getting all this set up, then we’ll start on dinner.”

The excited squeal as the kid toddled over to the pantry hold panel to wait for you made you chuckle. 

* * *

If it wasn't the aroma of cooking that got his attention, it was definitely the sound of you urgently scolding the kid with what almost sounded like terror in your voice. Mando quickly set the controls to autopilot and rushed over to the ladder, not even using the rungs to get down to the hold. The sudden sight and sound of an entire Mandalorian slamming to the floor from above startled you so badly you nearly knocked over your little makeshift kitchen area.

His gaze landed on the child, who was staring back at him with unblinking eyes as he smacked his lips like he had just been eating something. Just out of the kid's reach, was a piece of a food wrapper, covered in teeth marks and saliva, pinched between your fingers. You had a makeshift waste bin in the other hand, into which you flung the offending piece of trash. The look on your face was nothing short of disgust.

"Does he... _often_... try to eat garbage?"

Mando sighed deeply, swearing to himself under his breath. He should have warned you before he just left like he did to go man the controls. 

"It's not the worst thing he's tried to eat." The child’s ears flicked, a hint of smugness on his face. 

You chuckled nervously, setting the waste bin out of reach of the child. You wiped your hands on a nearby rag, as Mando approached to pick the child up and move him a little bit away. 

The set-up you had was fairly impressive, considering what was available. You'd taken the old heating plate out and set it on top of a storage container, and repurposed a larger rations tin intended to be heated up anyways into an extra pan, so you had more to work with besides the old pot. You'd pulled out all the utensils he had and had them laid out on top of a loose scrap of fabric, and a cluster of ingredients on another. The cutting board looked new, you must've bought that earlier. The pot had something boiling in it, and the pan, while it looked empty, had something browning in the bottom that smelled delicious. 

"Do you have any knives I can use?" You started to inspect one of the packages of meat you'd purchased earlier. "I need to dice some things."

The question wasn't did he have knives, the question was which ones was he willing to part with for kitchen use?

He paused, wandering over to the armory and peering pensively inside. You leaned over to try and watch what he was doing. The kid in turn watched you, no doubt hoping you might drop what you had so he could scarf it down.

Mando leaned into the armory to pick something out from its depths, and when he returned he displayed several small blades. They weren't all that tiny, but his broad hands made them look even smaller than they should be. You ignored that as best as you could. Your eyes flashed amongst the different blades, and you carefully pointed at two - a butterfly knife, and a small hunting knife. You didn’t dare just reach out and grab them yourself. With great dexterity Mando maneuvered them into one hand and the rest into the other, offering them to you with the blades flat in his hand and the handles presented. You carefully took them and set them beside your other utensils. Wordlessly he went to put the rest of the knives away.

You expected him to return to the cockpit, but he didn't. Instead, he moved to sit in the opening of the hole in the wall that was his bunk. You raised your eyebrows at him questioningly.

"Making sure you don't completely ruin my knives. Or let the kid eat more trash."

You huffed at that. Well, back to work.

The kid had wandered closer again and was intently watching as you prepared the food, cubing the meat, tossing it into the makeshift pan with a satisfying sizzle. 

Mando never really cooked much for himself besides prepping a basic bowl of mealgrain with whatever ration packs he had on hand. Sometimes he'd build a fire whenever he was camped out on a planet's surface and roast skewers of food over the fire, he knew how to hunt and gather and field-dress, but nothing extravagant. Watching you work was something else. It was mesmerizing, the way you maneuvered between the "pan" and the pot you'd removed from the heat, adding whatever seasoning or extra ingredients with no hesitation, completely focused on what you were doing.

At some point, you picked a piece of the cooked meat out of the "pan" with a fork, blowing on it a few times before picking a corner off to taste-test it. You looked deep in thought as you mulled over what else it might need. With a shrug it seemed you decided it was alright as it was. You lowered the fork towards the child.

"Here, try."

The speed at which he snatched the morsel off the fork and downed it was incredible, you didn't even think he had time to taste it. The shine in his eyes and his ears perking up told you, however, that he absolutely wanted more. You gave him a pointed look.

"No, no more handouts. It's almost done, anyways."

The kid turned his head to look back at Mando, his face begging him to tell you that he needed more. He shook his head slowly, biting back a chuckle at how the kid pouted.

"Okay, I think it's done."

Somehow, in the time he had taken his eyes off of you to simply tell the kid "no", you had combined the contents of the pot and "pan" and were separating it out into portions - two of the larger bowls, and one of the smaller bowls that may have been a mug for the child. He could see better what it was - looked to be some sort of hearty stir-fry, the rice and meat you'd bought earlier being the most obvious part of the dish. Mando had already forgotten what you'd purchased in the way of vegetables and other seasonings, but the finished product was colorful and looked very appetizing, especially with the way the steam trailed slowly into the air from its surface. 

The kid was visibly excited, bouncing on his little feet, and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Mando was looking forward to trying it too. What he wasn't looking forward to, though, was having to explain to you that he couldn't take his helmet off to eat, that he'd have to take his helping and go somewhere else where you couldn't see him. You'd never seen him with his helmet off, even in his own ship, so it only made sense that you'd ask about it eventually. He didn't know how much of the Mandalorian Creed you were familiar with. He expected more than most, considering your former occupation and being fairly savvy to various cultural practices, but he couldn't be sure.

"So, uh.. this might be weird..." 

He braced himself internally, anticipating something being said about his helmet.

"Would you mind if I ate, uh... over there?" You jabbed a thumb towards the semi-walled off area you'd set up since he was last down there.

...he wasn't expecting that. 

His confused stare probably only came off as a cold one through his helmet. 

"It sounds stupid, but I have a hard time eating if I feel like I'm being watched. So that's where I'll be."

He nodded slowly. Well, that wasn't what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't a bad thing. It made things a little easier, at least, with him not having to give the Talk just yet.

You took your helping in one hand, used your free hand to maneuver the smaller bowl into the child's grabbing hands, and sheepishly left to your secluded area, ducking down to sit in your newly-arranged space. 

The bedroll was laid out, a pile of folded clothes sitting near the foot of it. You'd located some smaller crates, one acting as a makeshift stool, another as a low table, where you sat your bowl down for a moment to get situated. In addition to the larger crates and the dip in the hull acting as a wall, you'd also tacked up a sheet on each "side" of the hull to act as a curtain - not wide enough to completely block off the hall, but enough that there was at least more of a definitive barrier that made you feel enclosed from the rest of it. The tiny synthetic tree sat perched on the low crate-table beside some of the other odds and ends you'd procured at the market. It wasn't much, but you felt less like a temporary stowaway like this.

Once you settled down, you picked your bowl back up and were about to take a bite when a familiar green head poked around the curtain. Once he spotted you, he turned back as if he was looking to Mando for permission, and then he trundled over, his own bowl carefully clutched between his hands.

Try as you might to form words to tell the kid to please go sit with Mando, or anywhere else, every sentence dried up in your throat before you could finish it. It didn't seem like he was listening, anyways, the way he didn't even so much as glance at you while you tried to speak. He was too busy getting himself settled down on the floor, and then lifting the bowl to his face to continue eating, sticky eating sounds filling the air as he shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth. That alone was enough to make you stop trying to tell him to go. It was almost shocking how noisy the kid could be with his food. You watched with something between fascination and the slightest bit of revulsion, slowly taking bites of your own food. He finished faster than you'd anticipated, greedily trying to lick the inside of the bowl to get the last morsels stuck to the sides, his eating utensil forgotten. Considering what you saw Mando's food supply was before you came on board, you didn't blame the kid for downing it like he did. 

You, however, couldn't quite finish your meal. You had done your best with what you could, but something about the finished product left something to be desired in your opinion. You always had been critical of your own cooking, and knew what you were going for versus the actual outcome. With a brief glance towards the opening of your space, almost as if you expected Mando to appear, you took the kid's bowl and scraped what remained of your meal into it. He was almost vibrating with excitement when you handed it back to him, and you grimaced slightly as he started to scarf it down. Did his species get the equivalent of heartburn? 

“ _That_ good, huh?”

He peered at you over the edge of his dish, tiny mouth working. He’d made fast work of it, putting the now-clean bowl on the ground. His bright eyes now lingered on your own bowl, like somehow he might find more food in it even though he just watched you empty its contents moments ago. Your morbid curiosity got the better of you and you held it out for him to take. The kid quickly took it from you, and with no hesitation, began to lick the inside to get the most out of it. You could feel a grimace trying to creep its way onto your face. The kid was cute, no doubt about that, but this was still a little gross to be watching. 

A light rap on the side of the hull caught the attention of both of you, and there stood the Mandalorian in the gap between the hull wall and the curtain, empty dish held almost forgotten by his side. The kid greeted his caregiver with a small, yet surprisingly big for his size, burp. You swear you heard a quiet snort from Mando’s direction. 

“You’d think he hasn’t eaten in days.” You nodded at the child, who was inspecting the bowl for anything else he may have missed. Mando shrugged lightly.

“He’s always excited for food.” He semi-consciously began turning his own bowl in his hands, still watching the little green one’s antics.

“Well, at least he liked it. It didn’t turn out quite like I wanted it to. Hopefully it was still okay.” While Mando had clearly finished his helping, with what he had apparently been living off of before, it was a fair assumption on your part that he didn’t care much for how things tasted - as long as they were edible. You really did try to go out of your way to make things palatable and not just edible, generally, so when you felt like you slipped up, you also felt the need to apologize.

“I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it.”

Truth be told, whatever you had done, it was one of the better meals Mando had had in a good while. Unfortunately for Mando, words were not at all his strong suit.

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” You said with a brief smile. With a groan you got to your feet, stooping to gather the dish-ware and utensils you and the child had used. “These can be washed in the same place I got water from behind the refresher, right--?”

“I’ll do it.” You froze in your tracks when Mando stopped you and took the things from your hands. “I’ll get the other things you used, too.” He motioned vaguely back towards where your kitchen set-up had been. 

“You sure? I made the mess, I’d be okay with cleaning it up.” 

The prolonged stare from the unreadable visor told you that this was not up for debate.

“...okay, if you insist.” You let yourself sink back to where you’d been sitting. The Mandalorian disappeared from your field of view beyond the curtain, and the sound of him gathering up the rest of the kitchenware and making his way to the washing area made its way to your ears. There was a quick-cleaning rack back there for exactly this kind of thing, and you could hear him loading it.

Never in your life had you expected to picture someone as stoic as this bounty hunter, doing something as domestic as _washing dishes_. You bit the inside of your lip to suppress snickering to yourself about it. The kid looked questioningly at you, head tilted. That alone was enough for you to crack a smile and snort. 

That snort morphed into a yawn, and you realized just how tired you were. It had been a long day, dealing with people at the market, setting up your new “room”, and cooking a meal from scratch. Not to mention, the turmoil of losing your home was still a raw wound. You noticed the heavy feeling beneath your eyes that told you it was well past time for a good rest.

“Well, kid, I think I’m going to lie down for a bit.” You nonchalantly began taking your boots off, other items that would undoubtedly be uncomfortable following - your belt, your wrist pieces, some of your outerwear that would get too warm too quickly once you dozed off. The child curiously watched as you placed these things in a small pile by the crate acting as a table. 

With a sigh that almost sounded like you were deflating, you laid down on the bedroll and turned onto your side. It wasn’t _anything_ like your old bed. You hadn’t expected it to be, but the difference between your old broken-in bed and this imitation of a cot laid out on a hard, metal floor, really drove home that things were different now, with no going back. You closed your eyes, exhaling softly through your nose, the melancholy settling in now that you were more or less alone with your thoughts. 

You felt a light touch on your temple, and opened your eyes to have your field of vision filled with a big pair of dark eyes staring back. The child had wandered closer and had touched his tiny clawed hand to your face, and was looking at you with concern, as if he could sense those emotions that were starting to roll around your head. You gave him a thin-lipped smile, reaching out to pat him on the head.

“I’m okay, kid, just tired.”

He made a small noise that sounded almost sad, and you didn’t miss the slight droop in his ears as he gave you a pat in return. Your smile turned a little more genuine at that.

You closed your eyes again, and quicker than you’d ever managed to before, you drifted off.

* * *

Mando took his time putting things away. When it was just himself, and the kid, there was a lot less clean-up involved. With the quality of what you’d made, though, extra clean-up was a reasonable trade-off. 

Clattering noises from your corner caught his attention. It didn’t sound like organized rummaging, more like the noise made when a womp rat was going through things looking for food. He sighed. It must be the kid up to something. Why you weren’t stopping him, he didn’t know.

He put extra weight into his footsteps to make sure the kid could hear him coming, and hoped that would be enough to get him to stop. As he pushed the curtain out of the way, he was met with the sight of the child quickly turning to make eye contact - the pouches of your belt clutched in his hands with the rest of the strap tossed over his arm, and what must have once been a more organized pile of your other accessories messily pushed around. And then there was you, laid out on your bedroll, eyes closed as you slept.

Even in sleep you managed to look exhausted, but at peace. Your form was curled in loosely on itself, somewhere between defensive and haphazard, like you had fallen in that position. The crease between your eyebrows had smoothed out and was nearly invisible. You breathed deeply through your nose, almost snoring. You had a hand wedged between your face and pillow, squishing your cheek up and distorting your features. 

Mando had seen plenty of people asleep. It was usually a restless sleep, followed by waking in a state of terror when they realized there was a blaster pointed at them and he was there to take them in for a bounty.

Seeing you in a genuine state of relaxation, completely vulnerable, was jarring. He wasn’t used to it. He didn’t even let _himself_ get to that point when he rested.

With everything you’d dealt with lately, though, you deserved to have a good, deep sleep. You were safe here on the Razor Crest with him.

The Mandalorian shook himself mentally from watching your sleeping form. It was strange to be staring like he was. He bent down on one knee to untangle the child from your belt and lift him carefully. The little one cooed, looking up at the armored man questioningly.

“Come on, kid. Let’s give them some space.” He stood back up, shifting the child into one arm and leaving as quietly as he could. The little one peeked over Mando’s shoulder at you until you were out of his line of sight, and then swiveled around to watch where he and the bounty hunter were headed. 

Very carefully, the child was maneuvered into his sling so Mando could climb up the ladder to the cockpit with both hands. Once on his feet again, the child was deposited into his pram, and Mando took his place in the pilot’s seat.

Now that there was fuel in the tank and supplies on board for everyone, it was time to get back to finding somewhere to hide out.


End file.
